Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1670
by regertz
Summary: Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...
1. Chapter 1

Samuel and Bess Pepys, Tales 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

(There's a goofy Buffy angle to some of my Pepys tales and you can learn more on that if you read my tales "Original Sin"...A sort of prequel... My "The Secret Diaries of Samuel B Pepys…" And my Cicelyverse page notes)

Special disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and does not purport to be in any way a biography of the historical Samuel Pepys...(Though dammit, I love the philandering, charming, intrepid, self-centered, loyal, hard-headed, romantic, money-grubbing, loving and lovable, scheming, dutiful lil' 17th century Clerk of the Acts and Secretary of the Admiralty...One of history's greatest writer-chroniclers...)

Notes for the series-

Strongly urge you to view the Diary a bit first…But Sam Pepys was the clever son of a tailor, John Pepys (hence Bess' calling him "pricklouse" at times since tailors and their helpers often had to "orick" lice from clothing) who with the help of a very well connected cousin, Edward Montage, son of a wealthy knight, an English Civil War hero, troop and naval commander and favored aide under Oliver Cromwell, who switched to the King's side after chaos erupted in England following Cromwell's death, and became Earl of Sandwich…Yes, Sandwich, went to Cambridge and earned a college degree. Recognizing Sam's talents at reporting and his overall cleverness, Sandwich became Sam's patron and helped him to an important post with the Royal Navy, Clerk of the Acts, from which lofty height Sam was not only able to start a huge reform of the British Navy but earn hefty side profits and make connections with leading intellectual and political figures of his day. But it's his private Diary, a brilliant and humane account of all his doings and actions for nine years, that is his claim to fame. His brilliant dramatic sense…He was indeed a confirmed playgoer…His instinctive reporter's eye…And his fundamental honesty (and fascination) about himself combined to produce one of the great works of western literature-Dramatic, even tragic at turns, humane, witty, delightful, and thought-provoking…A celebration of the humanist spirit. And the soul of the Diary, alternately worshipped and denounced, is his spirited, beautiful, charming, terrifying wife, Elisabeth…A half-French girl of ruined noble background who brought him no wealth or connections of note but in whom Sam found his romantic side…For good and …not so good. Pepys' Diary features an amazing world of characters and scenes from great drama and major battles to hilarious comic scenes and personal tragedy and betrayal…From terrifying Plague and City-destroying fires to winsome musing on love and loss to physical comedy and nervous, guilty philandering…

Tales of Sam and Bess…1660-1679.

"Samuel Pepys' Guide to Picking Up Women…"

Good fellow, welcome…

We shall assume you are a gentleman, and not presently accompanied…  
Given the subject matter…By wife, sweetheart, or female relative…

Let us therefore closet ourselves. ("Bess, I'll be at my accounts for  
a while, you'd best get off to bed.")

Step One…

Money rules…

Yea, good sir.. It should first be noted that a surfeit of money makes  
all men more attractive and ye pauper oft goes home alone. First, then…  
Make it your cardinal principle to acquire such moneys as wilt allow  
ye to offer your lady friend toys and trinkets. A good woman in, or  
fancying herself in, love may tolerate poverty in a man but if ye wish  
to gather in the coals, so to speak…Put coin in ye purse.

Step Two…

Clothes doth maketh the man…

Friend, disabuse thyself of the notion that it is the inner man which  
shineth to give grace to thy outward appearance in lieu of fine  
garments. 'Tis sentiment fit solely for the Lord's Day, in the church,  
in the backmost pew. In short, sir…No threads, no beds. Yet be  
reconciled by the thought that a fine suit doth hide the bulging  
stomach and good cloth with lace trimming draws attention from the  
hairy brow and the bugged eye.

Step Three…

Power…Ye bludgeon of choice…

Contrary to the old saw of power as the foremost aphrodisiac, power  
may not win ye thy lady's heart. However, if the said lady or hers be  
powerless and friendless…It may well win her body…And win ye the  
support of hers in ye quest. Yet beware ye do not apply thy power  
before confirming the powerlessness of ye lady and hers…Particularly  
her father, husband, or sweetheart. A slip here may land thee in the  
Thames or the Tower.

Step Four…

The merry and clever Tongue hath power to charm…

With all the previous steps in hand, a merry and clever tongue may  
lighten the road to Romance and cheer thy lady's heart.

At least it may it easier for her to grin and bear thee…


	2. Chapter 2

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

….

"Legendary…"

London…August 1665…The plague has devastated the city…Tens of  
thousands dead…

But those surviving the disease are even worse off…

For true to 20-21st century sci fi, they have been left mutants…Hideously  
deformed mutants…

"Bad enough…Though even worse…" Sam Pepys, sole human survivor in the  
City owing to flea aversion…

"Anti-materialist Quakers in their theology…"

"Pepys…" A hollow cry from below in the courtyard of Seething Lane…  
"We must properly supply the wants of our seamen."

"My God…Plague-marred Batten back again?" rush to the window.

"Take heed of the suffering, Pepys…Arrggg!" cry as mutant Batten is  
killed by booby-trap pit.

"Take heed of that suffering, fellow!"

"Pepys…Join your fellow Englishmen in making peace and reforming this  
land. I have renounced all vice, returned to my dear queen's side,  
and will now lead the nation with the help of Parliament as a good  
English king should." Mutant Charles calls. "We need your naval  
expertise to negotiate peace with Holland, Pepys."

"Right after I negotiate with the Pope, you thing from Hell!" Sam  
fires crossbow.

Arggh…

Yikes! Sam ducks as mutant Queen Caroline tosses diseased arm of dead  
Charles his way. Nice throwing arm…

A crash below…

"Mr. Pepys! Where are you?" Hewer's voice, distorted by plague  
mutation.

The fiends…To bring in my own clerk.

"I have the receipts from the last Tangier committee meeting."

Now that is just too low…Bad enough when they sent Mother and Bess to  
lure me out…

But they haven't counted on the vow-developed self-control of one  
Samuel Pepys…

He arrives, sword in hand…

"Hewer, your services are no longer required." Arggh!

"You've danced your last two-step, Pembleton…" wicked sword thrust  
nearly avoided…But the deformed dancing master is no longer quite so  
nimble, Sam notes with sneer.

Arggh…

"Pepys!"

"Oh, this must be a happy dream…" Sam beams at a heavily muffled in  
cloth wrappings but unmistakable Admiral Sir William Penn calling to  
him from the hallway…

"But Pepys…I'm not one of them!" Penn reveals unmarked face.  
Arggghhh…

"Seems the sword is mightier than the Penn…" Sam exults…

"What was that, Sir Will? I don't think I heard ye."


	3. Chapter 3

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

….

"The Night He Came Home…Halloween, 1667…"

"Bad days, Captain Hill, bad days…But we shall endure."

"I hope so Mr. Pepys. Well…" pause…

"Anything else, Captain? Mr. Yeasbly is coming shortly, to settle my Tangier accounts…" 

Ah, nothing like celebrating the Eve of All Souls Day with "settling"…i.e., getting my quarterly rakeoff…My Tangier accounts.

"Sir…Is your girl out? The one with the brother, your boy…The one you sent off to sea?"  
anxious expression…

"Jane Birch? Why yes. Out with Mrs. Pepys." Stern glance…

Hope Hill hear doesn't think he may take advantage of any young and lovely women working in my employ…

Cut to shot of Sam groaning after Jane's elbowing him once again for attempted feel…

Wait…The boy…Ah…

"Oh…Did you have news of young Wayneman at Barbadoes?"

"I…I'm afraid so, sir."

Hmmn…Sam nods. "A pity, a sad pity. But, there was little could be  
done for the poor boy…Headstrong and headed in a bad way, you know."

"Yes sir…But…Mr. Pepys…"

"Captain?"

"While I was in Barbadoes, after the Coventry was lost…I heard  
stories, sir."

"I should hope so…Anything interesting, Hill?" Sam leans back in  
chair.

"About young Birch, sir… Sir, the boy they say died a most horrible  
death in the fields."

"Tragic…And?…"

"Well, sir. There was talk that he had consorted with some of the  
locals."

"About what I'd've expected of the boy." frown.

"Some of the locals who dealt with the Arts, sir."

"Arts, Captain?"

"Sam'l?" Bess from outside the study. "We're back. Are you playing music?

It's bothering the girls."

Music?…Sam stares…

Come to think of it…I do hear… What is that?

Rather repetitive, I must say…

"Not us. We're busy, Bess…Give us a moment."

"That's the music…" Hill blinks… "All the way back from Barbadoes, we  
heard that music in the air."

Hmmn…Must be from Penn's. Just like him to try and top my musicians.  
But he'll never manage it with that repetitive tune drumming over and  
over…

Though it does get a bit on the nerves…

"You were saying, Captain…I must be off soon, a riverboat staying for  
me."

"The Black Arts, Mr. Pepys. And they said he was consulting them about  
means…Of taking vengeance. On those who sent him to that Hell on  
Earth."

"I should be surprised he'd blame others for his lack of character.  
Though it's nice to hear he displayed some modicum of initative…  
Anyway, since you say the lad is deceased, I shall choose to overlook  
it. We'll say nothing to dear Jane."

"Sir…The stories say…He knew he would die and planned to come back…And  
take vengeance."

Note for Hewer…Do not plan on offering Captain Hill new employment at  
sea.

"My men swore they saw a strange figure lurking in parts of the ship  
we took back to England. That he was responsible for killing six of my  
men with his bare hands."

"Shocking…Obviously stowaways…And escaping Barbadoes…Not really  
surprising Captain. I will bring it up at the next Board meeting.  
Security should be tightened at the ports."

"Sir…This figure wasn't human…They shot at him…Nothing…The murdered  
men were strong men and stabbed and slashed at him…Nothing…"

"Strange he should wish to 'lurk' for weeks, then, eh? Why not kill  
you all and be done with it, eh?"

"He wanted to reach England, the men figured…Sir…I didn't believe  
myself…Until we were nearly home…And that night I had the men search  
the ship from stem to stern, me with them. And I saw him…Shot at him  
at point-blank range…Saw him break the back of one of my strongest men  
as like breaking a chicken bone…Saw him leap from the bow."

"Into the sea, miles from shore? Problem solved, I should think."

"Sir."

"Thank you for the warning, Hill."

***  
Later…

Mr. Yeasbly departed, Bess and the maid and cook asleep…Sam in study, counting his gains…Literally…

Lightning outside…Revealing a figure in courtyard, watching the house…A gaunt figure  
in rags…Bearing sugar cane cutting machete…

The same music in the air…

….

"So, gave thanks to God for this 100 pounds I did receive at Yeasbly's…" hmmn? Sam looks up from where he's been writing.

Ah, nothing…The wind…

…And that rather annoying tune on the air…Shakes head.

Must consult Mr. Hooke about it. Some natural phenomena, very curious…Wind in the boards or…

Lighting flash…His candle suddenly blown out by gust…

Hmmn… He frowns, looking round…

"Jane?! Candle out! Jane?!" he calls for the sleeping maid… "I need a light, Jane!"

Lighting flash…He startles at sight of the same gaunt figure…And the machete, raised.

"Sir?! Who the devil…?" he begins, on recovering a bit…

"The Devil indeed, Samuel Pepys!" wild howl…Pepys ducking as machete swings violently…

"Have a care, sir! That paper is worth 10 shillings!" he cries as seeing the cut sheets of blank Diary paper on his table.

"Die, Pepys! Die!" swings again…Pepys falling and rolling, holding tome up to take the blow…

"Sir!" grim stare. "That tome cost me five shillings! Who the Devil are you?! And what do you want with me!?"

"Nothing with you, except your foul head! And I…Am…"

"Mr. Pepys…It's a bit late to be callin' for lights and such, sir…" Jane's weary voice at the door, she opening, holding candle, revealing herself in linen shift, bit of leg showing…

"Wayneman!" she gasped.

"Wayneman?" Pepys stared.

"Jane…" Wayneman groaned. "I'd not wanted you to see me…Like this…Just let me kill this bastard and I'll be on my…"

"Now see here, boy!" Pepys fumed. "I was a model employer…"

"Wayneman, you can't kill Mr. Pepys. You'd hang…Then be drawn and quartered, your entrails cut out and burned before your eyes. Tis not pleasant even if Major General Harrison bore up most well." Jane notes.

"Indeed. A brave man." Pepys nods. "My wife says…"

"Screw your wife!" Wayneman howls.

"Oh…Really." Sam, immediately suspicious. "So, you made advances on Mrs. Pepys…? While in my employ? Explain yourself, boy!"

"Certainly not. I was a mere boy. That's disgusting." Wayneman frowns. "Jane, you know I would have never…"

"Of course, sweetheart…" Jane nods. "Now lets have that sharp thing…"

"NO! He must die!" Wayneman raises machete… "Author of all my woes…!"

"Now see here!" Sam, indignant.

The thanks I get for secure him a new life, a second chance…In the soul-destroying cane fields of permanent exile….

Is nice the lad has learnt a neat turn of phrase though… "author of all my woes…" Like that.

"Wayneman! Stop that! Now!" Jane insists.

"Jane? He's a monster…What he did to you…" Wayneman fumes.

"What did I…?" "What?" Sam and Jane in near echo…

"Wayneman? You think I would ever let this goose bother me?" Jane, shaking head.

"Jane…" Sam, annoyed.

"Well, you are a fine man and employer at times, sir. But a silly goose when the temper hits you." Jane notes.

"Well, I'm the master…Everyone says, from Lord Sandwich and the King on down…" Sam begins.

"Kick them all in the arse too, if they should ever try with me." Jane,firmly.

"That be me Jane." Wayneman beams as best his gaunt face can… Eyes Jane, then Pepys…

"Never?" he asks her.

"Not a bloody chance in Hell…" Jane, proudly.

"Indeed, a most virtuous girl, your dear sister…" Sam, catching the mood.

Ah, must try to retain all this for the next entry…

"Well, good. But he still sent me to Hell!" Wayneman cries.

"Are conditions truly so awful there?" Sam, genuinely curious…

"Hell, as I've repeatly said, sir." Wayneman frowns.

"You've improved your speech, boy…Glad to see you've not entirely wasted your time there." Sam nods.

"He's always been a bright lad, Wayneman, sir." Jane, eagerly. "You've but pushed him too hard."

"Perhaps…Now about conditions on the island, boy." Sam begins.

"I've endured terrible suffering in my escape and an arduous sea voyage to come to kill you, sir." Wayneman frowns. "That should put it in a nutshell."

"Very good point, boy." Sam nods, pleased. "I like that you've learned to be succinct. But now, as to specifics…For the King's service, you understand…"

"Go on, Wayneman…Answer Mr. P's questions." Jane urges

"Well..It's quite brutal and man-killing…And quite inefficient, sir. The methods. They don't even keep proper records as you do, sir. Not even at the Navy offices." Wayneman notes.

"Really? No proper records despite my orders? Shocking…" Sam frowns. "Well, this must be dealt with. Jane, see the boy is bathed and fed…Get him to bed and find him some proper clothes tomorrow. We'll discuss the situation on the island in detail tomorrow in my office, boy. For now, focus on any specific details you can remember about operations. From start to finish, lad. You know my old lessons…"

"I did rather make use of them in my escape, sir." Wayneman notes. "And of course I used a few of the ghost tales you'd told us to frighten the locals into thinking I be from the Dead. And me recorder lessons didst come in handily." He holds up recorder.

"I knew you'd learn it if you just kept at it, Wayneman." Jane beams.

"Yes." Sam sighs. "Speaking of the Dead, boy…Captain Hill did mention six seamen…Dead at your hands? Bit worrisome…"

"No, sir." Wayneman, somewhat indignant. "I'd not lain a hand on them. They were looking to jump ship, sir. Join a privateer passing the island. One of their friends told the Captain of the vessel I'd escaped on that I'd killed them."

"Indeed…" Sam nods.

Definitely keep Hill from further sea duty. The man jumps to conclusions far too readily without seeking facts.

"Come, Wayneman…" Jane, gently tugging. "I'll get you washed up and something to eat. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Jane. Boy, up and early. We'll have a good spot of work to do tomorrow. I think we'll put you in as a junior clerk under Mr. Hayter. I see a future if you apply yourself."

"Thank you, sir." Wayneman nodding.

I really must send more of my clerks to field duty, truly. Sam contentedly notes to self.

"Sam'l! Come to bed, ma chere, tis late!" call.

"Coming, Bess! Ah, yes… 'And so to bed'…" writes on Diary page.


	4. Chapter 4

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…..

Surrmary: Sam and Bess take a ride on the dark side...

No doubt… The coachman assured them… It was just a short hop over and  
would only take a moment…

"That's what they do." notes Bess.

***

"Sam'l?"

"Sam'l?"

"Samuelllll!"

What a lovely girl…Hmmn… "Bess?"

"Where are we going?"

"Just over to the driver's place, he wants to change horses."

"It's taking a long time? Are you sure the man knows where he's  
going?"

"He said in St. Giles…This is rather far. Say, driver?!"

Deb looking graver than ever…

"Just a bit more, sir…Over that way." pointing.

"It's getting dark, Sam'l. And where are we? I don't like the looks of  
this place."

Right…Well, I'll just go and drive the damned coach myself. Sigh…

"Just a minute, Bess. Driver? Are we almost there?"

"Just a bit more sir, nearly there now."

"I think he's up to something, Sam'l. You should give him a talking-  
to."

"Right, talking-to…"

Jostle…Oh!…

"Oh, this is taking so long…It's dark now, Sam'l."

"Yes, yes… Driver?! Either get us there or turn back!"

"Almost there, sir. Just a bit more."

"He's up to something, Sam'l. Jane says some of them take you into the  
ruins or some dark place and they have their gang waiting there and…"  
garroting motion.

Hmmn…

"Driver!"

"Almost there, sir, yes sir…"

Oh…Grrr…

"We're going to be rob and murdered…I know it. Papa always said one  
shouldn't display one's valuables or let any one know you have  
anything. And everyone in town knows how well you're doing, Sam'l. All  
the musicians and the parties…"

"Bess, please…You're frightening Willett."

"I'm frightened, Sam'l." icy edge. Narrow look at grave Deb.

Hmmn…

Uh-oh…Sam eyes the look of She Who Must Be Placated…

Before She Suspects Anything…

Not that there is, as yet, anything to suspect…

"Now, now, Bess… Driver!"

"Just a moment, sir, turning in the way now. Bit more and we're there,  
sir."

Ohhh…Bess groans.

Coach stops…At last.

"There we are, sir. Just a min while I open her up, then inside,  
change the girls, and we're off."

Driver climbs down.

"Hello, lovely lady…" voice from outside tapping at Bess' coach door.  
"Out for a night on the town are we? Not the best place for it."  
Leering hiss…Chuckle. Clawlike hand suddenly resting on open coach  
window.

"SAM!"

"Here, now, Lemeul...Be off wid' ye!" driver's voice at carriage  
side. "Don't be minding Lemeul, miss. Bit cracked in the head, but  
no harm in him."

"I want to see the lovely lady..." Lemeul's voice, plaintively. "Show  
her the sights, I will."

"Get...Me...Out...Of...Here..." Bess, grim hiss to Sam now at her  
side.

Deb sitting, hands gravely folded. Nervous eye dart to open window.

"Lets be getting in, then..." driver resumes his seat. "Have you out  
in a minute, mum."

Carriage moves in the dank fog into a small stable. Gate bar lifting  
at angle without visible support but loud creak.

"There we are...Safe and sound..."

Sound of gate bar crashing down...

"Oh!" Bess jumps. Deb, head bowed...Slight tremble.

What a delightfully grave girl...Sam sighs.

"Sam'l...Samuel!..."

Hmmn?...

"Help me out." grimly.

"Of course, dear."

Driver appears out of fog...

Hmmn...He is bigger than I'd thought seeing him in seated position,  
Sam notes.

Much bigger.

"Come on in sir and ladies and have a seat whilst I change the girls.  
Just a mo and we'll be right off."

"In? Where?" Bess peers into fog as Sam helps Willett out. Putting  
hand out for Sam to...

"Ah, the lovely lady..." Lemeul's voice as the hunchbacked little man  
rather daintily takes Bess' hand...

She staring, eyes bulging nearly so much as her dear husband's...

"Lemeul!" the driver grabs him, pulling him back... "Leave off and  
take the girls inside...The horses, Lemeul." frown as Lemeul hopefully  
reaches for Bess' paralyzed hand again.

"All right. We'll see the lovely lady later." Lemeul nods...Eyeing  
Bess head to toe...

"No harm in him, mum...Bit touched in the head. Me sister's boy, you  
know."

"Bess?" Sam pats her shoulder.

"The little fellow meant no harm...I think..." he tries, reassuringly.

Bess, blinking... "I want to go home..." little gril whisper...

Deb nodding, rather vigorously for the first time since Sam's met her.

"Right this way, sir. Ladies. Just in and have a sit and we'll be  
right along."

"Come on, Bessie..." Sam tugs. "There's nothing to worry about."

She eyes him.

"Do you want to stay here in the coach? With Willett?"

Deb, slight gasp, looking round.

"No...In..." Bess chokes out...

"All right, then...Now,driver, lets not be too long...The ladies would  
like to get home."

Home... Home to my little closet and my warm bed...Far from here...And  
Lemeul...Oh, yes...Bess sighs.

But, recovering, notices Sam taking Deb's hand.

Het. Hum.,

"Just wanted to see Willett safely in..."

Narrow look...

"...after you, Bess..." takes her grimly offered hand.

And off we...Ugh...Go...Sam pulls shoe out of manure heap...

"Mind how you go, sir. The girls are a bit busy about the place."

"Right...Thanks..."

High-pitched scream as shrieking old woman thrusts herself at them at  
the entrance to the house attached to the stable...

Sam'l...Please...Bess frowns...

"The wages of sin is Death! Death!" the old woman howls, wailing.

"Mother, stop that. Now be good for the gentry here..." the driver  
frowns.

"Mother a bit touched as well?" Sam asks, politely. Eyeing the woman  
waving what is clearly a tattered Bible in her gnarled hands.

"Ever since the Plague, sir. Yes, sir. Lost quite a few of the kids  
we did, mother and I..." the driver notes.

Oh...? Sam peers at the woman...Hair matted and gray but in the bit  
of light from the house, clearly not so old as she'd seemed at first.

"Sorry..." he notes to the driver who makes polite bow and shrug...

"Life, sir."

"I'm sorry." Bess, rather kindly now. The woman eyeing her.

"All six...Gone..." the woman sighs. "Wages of sin..."

"I'm sure they're with God in Heaven..." Bess patting her arm  
gently...

"Aye, mum..." nod back. Oh...? Eyes the nervous Deb...

"Your little girl?...Hello, precious."

"No, my companion...Say hello, Deb."

"Hallo...Ma'am..." Deb, softly...

Like the tinkling of some divine virginal...Sam thinks...

"Take the ladies and gentleman in now, Mother..." the driver,  
kindly... "Don't want em to get cold out here..."

"Or worse..." Mother notes, grimly..

"Come in, then..."

In...There?...Bess stares at door...A loose collection of sticks tied  
together...

Almost the exact image of the murderers' den Jane had  
described...Smelling about like what she'd described as well...

Or of the thieves' hideaway in her latest French novel..."Raoul,  
Gentleman of the Black Road...Though in that case, not quite the scent  
of rich spices described in the novel...

"...before it's too late..." Mother, carefully arch look...With glance  
at Sam...And Deb beside him...

Uh-huh...

Poor sweet thing...She eyes Bess...

***

Having politely declined an offer of some leftovers from the family  
supper...Ugh...Sam eyes dishes and bones...Sam seeks to find an  
engaging topic of conversation to enliven the rather gloomy  
proceedings...

As always one ready at hand...

"You know...Back in 58..." he begins...Addreessing their hostess, who  
seems a bit less befuddled when occupied in making others  
comfortable... Offering Deb a shawl, declined gravely, then Bess,  
accepted gratefully...

Oh, Lord...Bess groans...

Tell me he didn't bring the box along...

Whoa!...She jumps as something moves on the ground...Under what  
appeared to be a pile of old rags...

"Who's that, Mum?" a voice from the moving pile.

"Angel...Strangers in the house...Come here and say hello, me  
lovey..." Mother beckons as two more figures emerge from the pile...

"Angelina...Balthazar...Say hello to the nice people..."

Hello, you imps of Hell, you...Sam eyes the ragged, dirty children...

"Balthazar?...I have a brother Balthazar..." Bess, beaming...  
"So...These are yours?"

"Me last few..." Mother sighed...

Yes...Pity God didn't finish the job while he was about it...Sam  
notes...

"Perhaps we should be waiting outside...Your husband must be nearly  
done, now."

God willing...

"Pretty girl..." Angelina eyes Deb... Moving her way...

Deb gravely backing away from the surprisingly tall, skinny, dirty  
heap of rags approaching...

"Oh, what a sweet girl..." Bess calls to her... "Angelina's your  
name?..."

"Aye..." turn to focus on Bess..Ohhh...

"Here's a queen, Angel..." she notes.

"No, just the wife of the Clerk of the Acts of the Royal Navy..."  
Bess, arch grin at Sam...

Howl from outside... "The Royal Navy!..."

"That be ole Dickum..." Angel nods, solemnly... "He won't like you..."

"Oh?..." Sam, a bit put out from being forced to end early his  
narrative of his epic struggle against Death...

"He was a sailor till he got his head blown off..."

"Head?..." Bess stares...Angelina now burying herself in the fine  
lady's arms...Dickum!...

Oh, Lord...Bess...Sam frowns at Bess comforting the dirty heap of a  
girl...It'll take a week to get that filth out of your dress...Not to  
mention the lice...

"Head..." Angel nods..."He's dead..."

"I should hope so..." Sam notes...

end of Part one... 

Click here to Reply


	5. Chapter 5

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…..

"Samfeld…"

Summary: Sam has a brilliant concept to begin his new professional career in writing…

"Now let me understand this, son..." John Sr., blinking.

"You're giving up your position at the naval office..."

"And high time, too, father-in-law..." Bess, eagerly. "The strain  
wears on my poor Samuel night as well as day."

Glare from John silencing her...

"Father..." Sam tries... "Let me explain again..."

"Oh, I think I understand well enough, boy. You're moving to  
Brampton...Permanently. To escape the hue-and-cry..."

"Only in part, Pa..."

"Sam'l has more important things in him than to reform the Royal Navy,  
father-in-law."

"Indeed...You're going to write? Plays?" John stares at his idiot  
son. "The sort of nonsense that fellow Shakespeare churned out in the  
hopes of making enough to live on?"

"I have a small fortune, father. Supposing it's still safe in your  
garden. And whilst I do not claim Mr. Shakespeare's talent..."

"Sam'l is a marvelous writer, father-in-law. I had my doubts until he  
read me his Diary." Bess, enthused again...

"His diary..." John sighs. "And you want to put your diary on the  
London stage? In a play?"

"Not just one play, father-in-law...A series of plays...A cycle..."  
Bess, beaming. "The history of our daily lives..."

"Our daily lives? Christ, son...Even in a city like London who gives  
a damn about our daily lives? What are these plays to be about?"

Bess eyes Sam, arch look...Sam, a bit hesitant...

"Can I?" Bess, eagerly.

"Well..."

"They're about...Nothing...Father-in-law."

"Nothing?" John, dumbstruck. "Nothing, you say?"

"Exactly..." Bess, nodding...

"Is the French harlot having some kind of mental aberration?" John  
eyes Sam.

"Father..."

"Son...I don't know anything about playwriting or acting. But who in  
his right state of mind would go and pay good money to see plays of  
daily life which are about...Nothing?"

"It's a new form, father...A chance for me to experiment artistically  
and creatively."

"And I'm the Muse." Bess, happily.

"The Muse inspiring Nothing...I think I can believe that." John  
nodding.

"Father...If I could just make you see..."

"Well, there is lots of sex..." Bess notes. "Which didn't sit too  
well with me at first. But the work is brilliant and humanistic, just right to catch the literary crowd at Court...And  
Sam'l's honesty so overwhelming...I couldn't help but be overwhelmed.  
Plus I'm the Muse of the work."

"Right...I got that." John, grimly. Then pondering...

"Sex, eh?"

"Tons." Bess nodding.

"Some..." Sam, nervously.

"Betterton wants to play Sam..." Bess, bubbling proudly... "And Neil  
Gwyn is already studying me."

"Neil Gwyn? And lots of sex?"

"I couldn't believe it myself..." Bess grinning. "Didn't know he had  
it in him. Though it's all poetic license, mostly."

"Overwhelmingly..." Sam, hastily...Careful look at dear old Dad...Who  
takes the desperate plea.

"Try reading the first in the series, father-in-law...All the way back  
to the Restoration in '60. Or just this new scene Sam'l wrote today.  
You won't be able to put it down." Bess offers manuscript to John.

Hmmn...

"Penn at door...Hello...Pepys...Hello...Penn...Sam replies."

"No, father-in-law...Some of that's stage direction, in the brackets.  
Try it like this..."

"'Hello...Pepys.'" coldly.

"'Hello...Pepys.'" John repeats, frowning.

"'Hello... Penn.'" Bess, even colder, with glare.

"Could you go into bear-baiting or some other profitable venue, if you  
must try the entertainment field, son?" John sighs.


	6. Chapter 6

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…..

"Pepys' Bright Side…"

Heaven...

Bess, reading.

Door locked against a nervous Sam...

"Some passages are bad...And really make me sad.  
Others just make me swear and curse."

Sigh...  
"But when chewing on Sam's gristle,  
I don't grumble (being a 17th century dutiful wife with low  
expectations) I give a whistle..."

Grin...  
"And strangely things just turn out for the best. (Hello, boys...Will  
Hewer, Mr. Pembleton, Lord Sandwich, Lord Hinchingbroke, Captain  
Ferrers, Charles, Jamie, Uncle Wight). So..."

Chorus...  
"Always look on the bright side of life..." Whistle.

"Bess, is there someone in there with you?"

"Always look on the right side of life..."

"Bess! I know there's a man..." Listens... "Men! In there with you!  
Hewer, is that you?! Defend my interests, boy!"

"Yes, Mr. P." Will calls.

Bess...

"For life is quite absurb...You can take my Samuel's word. But you  
can always make up later with a vow. He forgets about his sin, but at  
least he makes you grin."

"I say enjoy life, it's our one chance anyhow!" Sam tries...

("Just taking your advice, dear!" call.)

Chorus...

"And also look on the bright side of death." Whistle.

[Spoiler...

"As I near to draw my terminal breath..." Bess...Frown.

"And I did have that terrific bust of you made! All my annotators  
praise it." desperate try from door.]

Sam...Sighing.

"Bess, love is just bizarre...You don't see till the final hour. Just  
how much your loved one means to you. But love, all the rest was  
show, to keep me laughing as I go..." ("And you know how  
painful...")"Remember that the story ends with you."

Chorus...

"And always look on the bright side of life." Whistle.

"Always look on the right side of life." Whistle.

("How can she keep these gentlemen in there with her here, isn't this  
Heaven?" Sam frowns to Peter. "Exactly." Peter smiles.)

"Always look on the bright side of life." Whistle.

("I think he's had enough, gentlemen. You go home to Lady Jemina, now  
Edward." "Right, cousin Bess." warm smile.)

"Always look on the right side of life." Whistle.

("I don't see our reigns were all that bad. Look at the world sit in  
today's Times." Charles notes to morose Jamie. "Oh, buck up,  
Jamie...I'll put things right with Mary and Anne. You're a dutiful  
type but you've got to learn to be less rigid with people. Story of  
your life...")

"Always look on the bright side of life." Whistle.

"Always look on the right side of life." Whistle.

("I can break down doors in Heaven?" Sam asks. "Whatever turns you  
on." Peter nods.)

"I'll take my next lesson Thursday, Mr. Pembleton. It's still...No,  
Uncle." Bess frowns at Wight.

"Hardly Heaven, niece." miffed Wight pouts.


	7. Chapter 7

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"The Medway Spy Caper…Part I…"

"Professor Hooke, the London Gazette's readers want the scoop on the  
Medway spy caper, what can you tell us?"

A leering Robert Hooke, Secretary…(Disregarded, scorned, abused, he would note)…of the Royal Society, seated at desk, leans back…

"Ah, the Medway spy ring, yes. A fascinating tale of intrigue,  
infidelity, treason, and murder..."

"But how did it all start? What's the scoop, Mr. Hooke?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? Heh, heh…"

"London's reading public wants answers! And you, the man whom all  
England says cracked the case, have them…!"

"I played my role. But is London, is all England ready for the  
answers, my young friend? Can you handle the truth?"

"Properly censored by the government, sure…This is the London Gazette,  
after all."

"Hmmn…Yes, well then, it all began with the arrival of three master  
salesmen at Seething Lane, our Naval HQ. They had been walking for  
miles...And miles...And miles..."

"La, la, la, la..."

"No! No, No, No, NO! Barker! Your voice suits your name,  
girl!" Slap of paper on table...Sobbing Barker runs from room.

"Sam'l? Barker's doing her best. Now, if you'd let me do it. With  
all my new trilling abilities..." Beaming. eager smile...

"The girl is hopeless, hopeless! What?...Ummn..."

"Mrs. Pepys? Someone...Ones at the door, mum."

Phew, Sam mops brow at salvation in Jane form.

"Oh, good... Sam'l...I've a surprise for you..."

"Yes?" Bess eyes the short, beetle-browed leader of the group…

"Uh, Ma'am...We represent..."

"You must be the three music masters recommended to me by Mr.  
Greeting? The only men in England who could properly teach anyone to  
sing my husband's latest work? If you succeed in teaching me..."  
Beam... "Or our girl, Barker..." Frown... "…to do it, I will pay you  
each five pounds."

"Lady, we ain't...Ow!" Blow from leader of the three on the head of  
the stout speaker…

"Quiet. Lady for five pounds each, we'll have you belting a tune like  
nobody's business."

"Bess? Who are these…Gentlemen?" Sam eyes the weary trio.

"Sam'l. These are three of England's greatest musical instructors…Mr.  
Greeting recommended them to me."

"Them?"

"This is Professor …?"

"Howard, ma'am. And may I present my colleagues, the great Professor  
Fine…"

Vague look from the third member of the group… Huh?

"…And my brother and colleague, Professor Curlique Howard." Aside…  
"Bow, you moron…" Slap.

Dignified bow by the Professor…

"Recommended by Greeting, eh? About what I'd expect, actually…"

"Sure to teach me…Or, Barker…Your song…"

"I don't know…Say, what is that sound?"

Whizzing sound…Slap of pie into Sam's face…

Cough, gurgle…

"My…" Bess stares. "Who threw that pie?"

"Who threw that pie?" Sam wipes pie from face… "My wiggie!" grabs  
periwig to examine.

"All right, broad physical comedy is fun…When done to Penn, Batten, or  
Minnes…But when a man's wiggie is endangered… Who threw that pie?"

"Mr. Hooke, I've got to know…Who threw that pie?"

"Patience, young man… All will be revealed." Leer…

…..


	8. Chapter 8

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"Pepysing at an Exhibition…"

"Lely?!"

"Oh, no…" sigh.

"Ah, there you are…Thought I'd drop by and see how the new portraits  
were coming…."

"Mr. Pepys. What a blessing."

"No problem, glad to the chance…Hmmn…No, no. Lely, now we discussed  
this…"

"Did we, Mr. Pepys?"

"Yes, indeed. I went into no little detail about this last time I was  
here. You don't want to paint my Lady Castlemaine in this light."

"I don't?"

"No, of course not. It totally obscures the luminous glow of her  
skin."

"Luminous glow…I see."

"Here, let me show you…"

"Mr. Pepys, if you wouldn't mind giving me back that brush…"

"There, much better. See?"

Thank God I substituted the old practice work…Lely sighs.

"Yes, very nice, Mr. Pepys. Now if you wouldn't mind…?"

"Of course, of course…Don't mind me. Now what do we have here…?"

"Mr. Pepys, those pigments are priceless!"

"Hmmph…Rather dull, I would say. Now you know Halys has some  
wonderful bright things…"

"Susan?! Susan! "

"Anything wrong?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Pepys. Susan just doesn't hear all that well."

"Sir?"

"Ah, Susan. Would you mind showing Mr. Pepys our latest work…  
Upstairs?"

"Ah…Susan…" Sam beams.

(Help, the Clerk of the Acts has fallen…Susan thinks, grimly.)

…..


	9. Chapter 9

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"Literary Case…" Part I…

Summary: Oh, is Sam gonna be pissed…

Evening...Rising mist as darkness engulfs London...A rather well-  
dressed man carefully scouts about him in a street perhaps not really  
suitable for such apparel...At a time perhaps not appropriate for such  
a respectable figure to be strolling...

Nor is the dress of the woman now standing next him, that of a common  
street walker, indictative of a companion quite right for such a  
man...

But location, time, and the said companion seem to satisfy the man.  
Who questions his companion carefully. Her replies suggesting perhaps  
more education and experience than your average Fleet Street  
prostitute. The man hasty, even anxious in his questions. The woman  
quite calm, her answers detailed and through. The man, satisfaction  
in his voice, pausing at a corner.

"Good. You've done well, my dear. Well, it looks like our worries  
are over. Gauden came through…Coventry suspects but there's no proof.  
As for my partner, Admiral Sir Will can do all the nosing around he  
wants but he won't dare pull a thing so long as I can spill the beans  
about dear little bride-to-be Meg. Yes, sitting pretty's, what I…  
What?"

Arrgh…Sound of sword thrust, body hitting pavement…

***  
"So Creed was murdered…Within an hour of Pepys? And with the same  
sword?" Penn eyes his guests. Their sudden arrival on the heels of  
the news of the violent death of his co-worker, the former Clerk of  
the Acts for the Royal Navy, anything but a social call.

"That's it. Looks simple enough. Creed killed Pepys over their  
dealings in the victualling…And then someone, a friend perhaps? Did  
Creed. Nothing to say, Admiral? Robinson says when you came over to  
Fleet, you were too busy even to stop and take a look at your dead  
coworker." one of the two, the superior by his bearing, addresses  
Penn.

"Well, Sir Will…" Robinson sighs. "You were in a hurry."

"It would hardly have brought him back, would it? Your Grace, if you  
would. I prefer to handle this myself, without Sir John's  
'assistance'." curt glance to the somewhat wounded Sir John.

"Yeah? Well, that's what I told Robinson. 'Sir John, Admiral Sir  
Will's the man to keep family business in family.' You know me, Penn.  
Charlie and I'll play fair, give you most of the breaks. Can't say as  
I'd blame you, given Pepys was your coworker." shrewd look.

"We weren't exactly kissing cousins, your Grace."

"That's the truth. And if Creed were still breathin' I'd say it was an  
even toss-up which one of you did Pepys." smile.

"So then it behooves me to find out who did Creed as well as Pepys  
before you boys decide to pin it all on me, eh?"

"Now Will..." Robinson sighs again. "Don't be like that, you know we  
got our work to do."

"I'd just like to know what you and the Duke are really saying." Penn  
eyes Jamie, who nods.

"Just this...Creed was killed within an hour of Pepys, after you came  
over and saw the body. I give you fifteen minutes to get to Creed's  
place, ten minutes polite conversation, ten minutes to hack him  
up...Plenty of time to get back here before us. And your girl Nan  
says you just got back. Why'd it take you so long?"

"I took a walk to think things out. My boy Will is big on  
recommending mediation. Sometimes it works."

"I see. Well, we've asked the questions, you've given us nothing. I  
don't say you're wrong not to but I'm getting to the bottom of who  
iced our Surveyor General/Tangier Treasurer/Clerk of the Acts  
regardless of whether you cooperate or no."

"Sounds like you just gave three good reasons for Pepys' death." Penn  
notes.

"And now you're free of him...Victualling all in your hands."

"Lucky me." Penn eyes the two. "Good luck, your Grace." Offers hand.

"You too, Penn." shakes hand.

"He might have offered us a drink..." Robinson notes as the two head  
through the Naval Office yard to the Seething Lane exit gate. "Pepys  
was right about him."

"You're employing your daughter as your assistant?" Hewer eyes Penn in  
the main room of the Naval Office.

"That's right, sonny. I think I need my own people about me now."  
Turns to a rather pleased Meg as Hewer glowers. "Meg, darling. Have  
Mr. Pepys' former office cleaned out and his name painted out on the  
door and 'Admiral Sir William Penn' painted on. And Hewer, bring Meg  
all of Pepys' victualling account books, including every record on his  
business dealings with Gauden and Warren. "

Hewer's glower increasing...

"That's all, sonny." Penn waves him off...

"And that journal he was always writing for..." Meg calls to an openly  
fuming Hewer...

"This just don't look good." Robinson sighs...Eyeing the corpse before  
him.

Hacked up as badly as poor Creed the other day he notes to the Duke  
beside him.

"First Gauden this morning, now Warren." Jamie frowns at the body of  
Sir William Warren.

"And all connected to one Samuel Pepys..." Penn, arriving, notes,  
startling the two investigators.

"Well, Penn." Jamie, narrow look... "Seems the victualling and naval  
suppliers' business is getting pretty fatal to one's health."

"Don't suppose you might have any info as to why someone might want  
these friends of your dead co-worker hacked to bits?"

"'Fraid not, your Grace. But it's no secret they and Pepys played fast  
and loose with the Navy's accounts. Maybe too fast..."

"Nothing in the books to suggest a specific person?"

"Not that I could see."

"I may drop by to have a look myself. I assume the books'll still be  
there."

Penn reddens...Robinson rolls eyes, followed by reproachful look at  
the Duke.

"And that little crack is meant to suggest...?"

"Maybe someone else would have an interest in making some of Pepys'  
books disappear." Jamie, shrewdly. "In fact, my sources tell me  
something of Pepys' has disappeared."

"Nothing connected with the records. Just a personal journal of his.  
The one he was always writing notes for."

"Strange someone should want to take a thing like that and not touch  
the accounting books. Written in shorthand, I've heard."

"Haven't seen it, can't say."

"Can't or won't?" Jamie, narrowly.

"Now, now..." Robinson interposes himself between the two. "There's  
no need to carry on like this, Will. We got our work to do."

"I'd guess so...Pinning four murders on me." Penn eyes Jamie. "I  
forget. Did I use the same sword here as on the others?"

Reproachful look from Sir John...Glower from Jamie.

"Dad...Mrs. Pepys." Meg at office door, frown at Bess in her mourning  
suit.

"All right." Penn now at door. "Mrs. Pepys, come in." leads her in,  
closing door.

"She looked crushed." Meg, sourly.

"Just like old times." Hewer, passing by, sneer.

"Bess." Penn waves his guest to a chair. Bess looking about room  
nervously, takes seat.

"Oh, Will...You must help me...Be kind, Will."

"I know, darling."

"Did you kill him?" parting veil...

"What put that into your little head?" he stares.

"But, you always said...If the little bug-eyed landlubber were  
dead...You and I..."

"Ha!" slaps desk. "You killed my husband, be kind to me." icy stare.

"Oh, Will...Please...I'm so frightened. All these men dead, connected  
to Sam."

"Corrupt crew the lot of them...England's well rid of them all."

"But...Will...Sam did have very good musical taste and was a witty and  
charming storyteller."

Just sayin'... she eyes the frowning face.

"So...Why are you frightened...You know something?" Penn, cold stare.

"William? How can you ask that at a time like this? You know I  
never, ever interfered with Sam's business...He'd never let..."

"No? And I suppose you know nothing about a journal he kept? A  
personal diary?"

"He was always taking notes...Even at supper." she blinks at him. "A  
personal diary, you say?"

"That's the one. You know where it is?"

"Why, no. Do you suppose it might be important?"

"Only if you think learning who killed your husband and three others  
is important. Who might have had access to your husband's closet at  
home?"

"Why, everyone. He loved to show it off."

"But he'd put everything away when he did. I've been there. I never  
saw his journal there. Funny you should say you know nothing about  
his business. Your brother, Balty, says Sam never made a move without  
consulting with you."

"Balty's an idiot. You knew Sam...Was he the type to confide in me?"

"Can't rightly say. I suspect I didn't know him at all, really. Kept  
a good account book though. I should warn you, Bess. I'm going to  
learn all about that diary and what he was up to. If you do know  
anything..."

"William?"

"...best to say so now..."

"And if I did...You'd be willing to help me?"

"Help?"

"Keep the Duke and others away from me...My name out of this...Perhaps  
cover a few of my Sam's less worthy dealings? For the sake of our  
family, Will."

"Then I'll need you to spill, darling."

"Oh, Will...Can't you just find out in your own way, as you say?"

"Ok by me...But the Penn way is to toss a burning torch into the  
powder hold and see if the ship explodes. If you're sure you're  
safely away, fine. Else, I'd hate to see that pretty face marred."

Ummn...

"Well, I may have heard a few things...But Sam always assured me he'd  
set the books right. Not a thing in them to pin anything on him or  
his friends."

"True enough from what we've found so far. Making his diary even more  
crucial."

"Maybe whoever killed Sam, destroyed it."

"He wasn't killed at home, precious. And unless you and your people  
were lying, no one apparently showed up at the house or broke in that  
night."

"William? Would I lie?"

"You haven't played straight with me for an hour since I knew you."

Bess rises from chair... William?

"You knew about his women, about his dealings. You stayed."

"This is the seventeenth century, Will."

"You'd left him before."

"It didn't work out. And I learned a girl is best off not trying to  
make it on her own."

"And you knew about his diary."

"William?"

"Don't play me for a sap, Bess. I'm not into my boy Will's non-  
violence. You're the only one who could have taken it from the  
house."

"I...I don't have it...I gave it to... Someone...They said it was  
important...They offered me money for it..."

"Who did you take it for?"

"I can't say...I daren't, oh, Will...You've got to protect me, I'm so  
lost without Sam. Help me, Will...Be generous."

"You won't need any help, Mrs. Pepys. You're good. You're awfully  
good. Especially when you get that throb in your throat... 'Be  
generous, Will'."

Cool look... "I deserved that, I suppose. But the lie was in the way  
I said it, not what I said."

"You are in danger, then."

"Bad as can be...You've seen those men."

"Who did you give the thing to? Where is it?"

"I don't know where it is, Will. I can't tell you who...But I can say  
he doesn't have it now...It was stolen from him."

"Lot of people want that opus."

"I suppose...Oh, Will...I'm so afraid..."

"Just be patient, darling...All will come out. Including your role."

"Will? How can you say that after all we've meant to each other?"

***  
About an hour after Mrs. Pepys' leaving...

"Dad?"

"Another visitor?" Takes card Meg offers...Hmmn...Signor Chessi,

"This one's a musical type, Admiral."

"In with him then, darling. Ah, Signor Chessi." Closes door, waves the  
signor to a seat. A large, dapperly-dressed Italian, Chessi dusts  
chair seat with cloth from coat, sits primly.

"Admirale. Uh, may a stranger offer condolences on the death of your  
coworker, Admirale? I did know Signor Pepys slightly…As a lover of  
music."

"Really?"

"He will be mourned. May I ask if the speculation in the London  
Gazette regarding a connection between his death and that a little  
later of the man Creed?…Pardon, I ask not of idle curiosity. In fact,  
I am seeking a literary document of Signor Pepys' which I know had  
been in his possession that  
night but which since has disappeared. I suspect that whoever killed  
Mr. Creed may have acquired said document and I am prepared, in the  
name of a relative of Mr. Pepys, to offer the sum of 500Ls for the  
document's safe return. I am permitted to say, how do you say? That no  
questions will be asked."

"Uh-huh. And you come to me why?"

"Because I believe that either you have it or can get it, Admirale."

"Really?"

Chessi pulls dagger, waves for silence.

"If you would stay seated, Admirale...I intend to search your office."

Penn eyes him, nods...Fine...

Grabbing Chessi as he comes close...Twisting dagger, sock on jaw...

"Dad?" Meg at door...

"Just an accident, Meg. The signor tripped, right Signor Chessi?"

A rueful Chessi nods... "Pardon, miss."

Meg frowning, closes door at Penn's stare.

"Well?..."

"I apologize Admirale...But surely you can see I would wish to save my  
client 500Ls if I could, given I could reasonably expect to receive a  
part in reward. A musician's salary can always use a supplement where  
possible."

"Fair enough. But your guess was wrong, I don't have the diary."

"If I may...Then why were you willing to risk injury to stop my  
search?"

"I'm an admiral in the Royal Navy, Chessi...Hardly look well to let some  
foreigner hold me up in the Naval Office."

"I see..."

"And I was disappointed to hear your offer was hooey..."

"On the contrary, Admirale...My offer remains geniune. Should you  
recover the item, I am prepared to pay in the name of my  
employer...Who must remain unknown to you..." hastily added.

"Mi, mi, mi…Pardon must check the equipment after our little  
'accident'…" Chessi notes, warbling…

"Not very much to go on, Signor, if you really want my help. Just  
why do so many people care about this personal diary?"

"Admirale…The written word can often be far more devastating than any  
weapon. I assure you the concern over Mr. Pepys' rather fascinating  
work is quite worthwhile."

…..


	10. Chapter 10

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"Christmas…1666"

(Take a look at the Diary entry for December 25th,  
1666... .com)…

Summary: Trying to sneak off to seek pretty women at a play on Christman Day  
minus John and Bess, are we?

"Brother Samuel?"

"John?"

"Sam'l?"

"Bess…? What are you two doing here?"

"What are you doing here alone?"

"Checking to see if today's play is fit for you and our would-be  
clergyman to see, of course. Now as to you two…"

"It's Act Three, Sam'l…Nice try, though."

"Sammmmueeelll, I'm back….Er, Mr. Pepys? Oh, hello…"

"You know Mrs. Knipp?"

"Too well…" grimly.

"I believe we were discussing why you and John were here? Together?  
Without informing me?"

"You vanished for two hours on Christmas Day, and you're asking  
questions like…"

"Must go and rejoin Christopher. Nice to see you again Mr. P…Mrs.  
Pepys."

"You'll want your hat."

"Ah…Thank you, Mrs. Pepys. Must've dropped it when I stopped by  
before."

"Are you wearing false hair again, Bess? You know what I've said about  
false hair…"

"Pepys! That's the man! I wanna talk to you, Pepys…About my wife and  
that new baby…"

"Mr. Martin? What the devil do you mean, sir, coming into our box in  
this condition…?"

"What…Baby?"

"Now, Bess… John, where the devil did you get the money to take my  
wife to a play?"

"I've got a right to speak with you, Pepys…About that child…Hic. You  
gotta obligatin…"

"Get your finger out of my face, sir!"

"I paid for him. I've a right to some pleasure on Christmas Day,  
Sam'l. And what…Baby?"

"Really must be going…Mr. Knipp is waiting on me. A merry Christmas,  
all…"

"Perhaps I could escort you back, Mrs. Knipp?"

"Oh, that would be so kind, Mr. Pepys."

"John?!" Bess and Sam at once…

"See what bad habits your brother is learning from you!"

"Ummm…." forlorn look from Mrs. Knipp…

"I'm sayin…You gotta obligation, Mr. P…epys…"

"Unhand me, sir!"

Crash…

"Mr. Pepys!" "Sam'l!" "Brother?!"

"Well, that is certainly the best play I've seen here in quite a  
while…" King Charles, watching from box to Lady Castlemaine.


	11. Chapter 11

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"Pepysianstein, The True Story…"

Summary: Now you know the real reason Sam had trouble with Mary Skinner's family…

***

Gresham College, home to the Royal Society...1666...

"You may murmur if you will..."

Murmur, murmur, murmur...

"Right..." Mr. King, bold natural philosophy pioneer/mad quack, fumes but continues as he stands at table next to newly blood transfused dog ... "But I foresee a day when

this experiment in the transfusion of blood will be followed by  
others."

"Others..." his assistant, Mr. Coxe echoes, nodding.

Good doggie…Pats rather stunned dog.

What's a little blood in and out, right?

"Til one day the brains of the right people will be kept alive by  
transfusion into the bodies of the little people..." King continues.

Murmur, murmur...

Say...Several take pause...

Would be nice to live another fifty in some dumb young footman.

Still...Some one is sure to...

"Unholy!...Papist!...Out with them!" cry is raised.

Hmmn...Somehow...Hooke thinks, motioning for King and Coxe to exit,  
stage left, post-haste with surprisingly frisky spaniel...

That juxtaposition just doesn't...

"This is not over!" King shakes fist at crowd at edge of platform.

(Spoiler...Halt now or like Dr. Praetorius of "Bride of Frankenstein"  
risk knowing too much...)

November 1669...

A drunken, broke King is grabbed by two men as he stumbles back to his  
lodgings...

And finds himself covered in hood, dragged to coach, and after a  
rather short ride, dragged into a building and sat in a chair. His  
hood jerked off to reveal a short, bug-eyed man in periwig looking  
anxious and jotting notes.

"Mr. King? I apologize for having you brought here under such  
circumstances but time was of the essence."

"Sir?"

"Best not to identify myself just now Mr. King...Wouldn't want to have  
to have you deposited into the Thames for my safety should you refuse  
my request...The request, Mr. King, of a desperate, desperate man.  
And a loving husband..."

"Hic...Sir?"

"Water!" Bucket thrown at King...

"Sorry, Mr. King...Time as I said. Mr. King, I learnt of your  
transfusion experiments in '66 and have followed your work since. I  
understand you have continued your efforts, though without proper  
support. Though you have achieved such results as might astound...Or  
horrify...The world were they to be known?"

"Hic...Have me at a disad..hic..vantage, sir."

"Mr. King...You once said you dreamed of transfusing the human brain.  
And I understand that you have worked in secret to make that dream a  
reality. Without sanction, I should say."

"Sir?" King snaps alert at the implied threat.

"Not to worry, Mr. King. In fact...I have a subject for you."

Sam waves to servant who reluctantly pulls curtain...

"Whoa…" King stares.


	12. Chapter 12

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

Summary: Sam's life takes a somewhat different course in an alternate universe in which he retires to his uncle's bequeathed country home in Brampton.

Diary of Alternate Sam…

October 20, 1666…

Up with the cock, for God knows what reason, there being nothing to do  
in this worthless hell-hole to which I condemned myself following the  
outbreak of plague last year. My wife not to be found on waking…I  
sought her in the kitchen where she and I had bitter words regarding  
her annoyance with what she calls 'my jealousy' and her complaints as  
to the barrenness of our lives here. I for my part did tear up to her  
some odd and ends of what my mother had said regarding her loose  
bearing at Hinchingbrook the other day with Captain Ferrers. She did  
deny it and in bad humor all the morning, insisting that she would in  
spite of my command to stay be off to dine with my Lady Sandwich. I  
for my turn did walk about the garden, kicking plants and did injury  
to my foot in so doing. Summoned by my cousin Tom to sit in at a petty  
dispute of my neighbors' over the placement of a new fence, I did dine  
there, where the food bad and ill-prepared and the company as ever of  
low sort in which I took no pleasure. On returning was vexed to find  
my wife had indeed gone off to dine with my Lady and remained in very  
bad humor all the afternoon, nursing my foot and reading in my books.  
Further disappointed in the evening to learn that the local fool I had  
called on to build me a new press for my books had done but clumsy,  
ill work…Yet as I have no longer call on the service I once did, it  
cannot be helped. Hewer did come in the afternoon bearing letters from  
London but no reply from Mr. Evelyn whom Hewer says is most busy with  
affairs of state these days. Nor does Mr. Hooke nor any of my other  
old friends reply, excepting a letter from Creed who tells me he does  
well in my old position. My wife returned in late evening…Six of the  
clock as I noted to her. She did desire to be friends and mentioned  
with rather odd air she would endeavor not to see Captain Ferrers  
again as it displeases me. Her manner troubles me, she giving me many  
sorrowful looks and I am resolved to follow her should she go about  
tomorrow. Gave her a lesson in astronomy, she growing in disquiet  
until the end when she begged me my forgiveness of her faults in such  
strident tones that I was loathe to do so until she had told me what  
such faults she referred to were, she denying more than her sorrow at  
displeasing me and her discontent with our country life.

I find I will not be able to continue my journal after this for a week  
for want of paper…Miserable hell-hole of a place…

And so to bed…Which did collapse under us, rotted old thing…And not a  
good workman to be found to restore it until he can be called from  
London 


	13. Chapter 13

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"The Saga of Cap't Pepys…"

Summary: So…If young Batten is unacceptable and it's beneath the dignity of  
Admiral Sir Will P to command the privateer bequeathed to Batten,  
Penn, and Pepys… 

"Bess? Remember how I said you could come with me on my next sea  
voyage?" 

Enter (legal) pirate captain Pepys…

Deck of the Flying Greyhound…( I for one love that name)

"Avast you there! Shiver those timbers, sir! Take no prisoners! And  
remind the men they are to properly enter all receipts for equipment  
used and prizes taken in the accounts books. And, Hewer, everyone is  
to provide Mrs. Pepys with full receipts for food and drink."

"Aye, aye sir."

"'E's the capt'n? That feller?..." one old salt asks of a fellow  
sailor.

"Aye..."

"We won't make it to the next port."

"Maybe not...But there no man better to handle clearances about prizes  
with the Royal Council when we return."

Bess emerges, in what she envisions from her novels as appropriate  
garb...

"Bess?! I've told you before I would tolerate no patches."

"Sam'l…Tis only an eyepatch. To make me look more menacing when we  
assault ships. Arrh…"

Waves cutlass… "This is grand. You know I bet I could do a better job  
now on your stone cut than your doctor."

"Mrs. P.? The crew wanted to know if we would be having dancing  
tonight on the main deck?"

"Oh, yes…" "Oh, no, we won't!"

"Sam'l…It's for the men's morale…Which considering this ship and its  
officers, could use a lift."

"Bess…You're the only woman on board…." Hewer rolling eyes at the  
thought of Mrs. Bagwell safely secured in the hold… "…We must take  
certain…Precautions."

"With this crew of clerks and elderly sailors recalled to duty?  
'Sides, French Bess, the doxy of bloody Sam Pepys has her trusty  
cutlass handy."

Swings…

"Bess!…"

"Sorry…I am having a grand time, love. And you never looked so… Black  
really suits you, Sam'l."

"Really…?"

"Arrh…"

Hmmn…

"Hewer…I'd like you to look to our supercargo… " takes aside… "…and  
inform our passenger that I will be somewhat too busy with ship  
matters to visit with her tonight."

"Aye, sir.".

"Swab down that deck! Look alive you mutinuous dogs! Or the  
capt'n'll have your throats cut by me! You, there! You want a good  
flogging?! Have at that deck, you bloody hounds!"

"Bess...No need to be so harsh on the men..." Sam'l, hissing...

"Sorry...Just supporting your authority, darling. And I am in charge  
of the housekeeping. Will? A word..." Takes Hewer aside...

"Tell the 'supercargo' if she wants to see another dawn to take the  
boat and make for land...Immediately."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."  
…


	14. Chapter 14

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"Operation Fire Sale, 1666…"

Meanwhile…

That den of inquity, the Vatican…

Where even now the final plans for the latest move against the heretic  
powers are being set in motion…

And celebration is in progress…

Though perhaps a tad too soon…

"Ah, ha, ha, ha!" shrill laughter ringing out through the vast  
halls of papal power at St. Peter's.

"Look, look my cardinals!" His H kicks at a vast model to quarter  
scale of London, knocking over by chance the home and new closet of a  
certain Diarist. "Soon it will all be leveled…The traitors brought  
low, their greatest city in ruins! A fitting revenge at last for the  
rank traitor Henry. Yes, yes there will be a warm autumn this year, my  
friends! Ah, ha, ha, ha!" glance at cadre of cardinals and minions…  
Likewise engaged in expressing perhaps somewhat more forced mirth.

"Mark the time, boy…" wave to young priest who inserts a marker in a  
large wall calendar.

"Seven days left and counting, Holiness…"

Hmmn…One cardinal frowns at the projected devastation.

If triggering a war between the heretic powers and wiping out the  
population with plague didn't break them, somehow I just don't see…

"I sense a disturbing lack of faith in you, Cardinal." narrow, cold  
stare.

Whoops…

"Not at all your Holiness…The heretics will be begging for Your  
Holiness' clemency. I was just thinking it is such a shame to lose so  
much valuable property, your Holiness."

"Our agents in London are insured…" chuckle…

"In Amsterdam…Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!" Laughter taken up with a slight  
degree of urging by the general group…

Two birds with one baker's stove…One does have to admit…The cardinal  
nods.

"Pepys?"

"Sir?"

"I take it you have heard strange rumors circulating about the City?"

"Indeed a few, Sir Will…"

"Pepys…We have reason to believe that London is in danger. And that we  
have…Approximately

…48 hours."

(Well, hell it's the 17th century…They need a little more time.)

"Excuse me, Pepys…My watch had stopped…Make that 46 hours."

"Indeed, sir." Would like to get back to see the new presses…Those  
lovely new-gilded books must be beautiful.

"Pepys?"

"Oh, yes, Sir Will…46 hours you say."

"Yes…Normally we'd hand this over to the military but what with the  
plague and so many of them being ready to kill us for pressing them…We  
feel we must turn to you, once again, to save England from threat."

"I understand, Sir Will." Bess nods. "I take it this does mean  
Samuel's little financial transgressions will once again…?"

"Pure as the driven snow…If you succeed…Else of course I leave him to  
twist slowly in the wind over the roaring fire of a full Parliamentary  
inquiry."

***

Where to begin?…Bess ponders as Balty beside her plays with sword.  
Once again saved…er called to duty by sister Bess.

Where else…

"Well, niece…Heh, ha…" Uncle Wight eyes the two facing him. "While my  
contacts in the City might occasionally encounter representatives of  
shall we say, heh, hah…other powers…I could not for my life, name such  
men…"

"How about women? Frenchwomen, perchance?"

"Heh, heh, hah…You know me and my tastes well, niece."

"Not that well." Bess quickly informs Balty.

***  
That other den of iniquity…Where at least Evil is enjoyed…Immensely…

Louis happily regarding map of London, papal envoy at his throne side…

"Ah, by next week, it shall all be named for me…Louis Square, St.  
Louis Cathedral, Louishall, Le Roi Soleil Exchange, Rue Louis, Rue  
Louis I, Rue Louis II, Rue Louis le Grand…It all shall be…What?" Louis  
eyes solemn-looking aide.

Holiness may have something to say about that…the envoy, smiling  
brightly, does not say…

"Sire…I regret to say…We cannot invade in the next week…The Hollanders  
are not feeling that the time is right. They will not support us  
navily. The troops are ill…There's fear of the plague in England."

Lean back, narrow look… "Monsieur, you are dimming the luster of your  
king's glory. Have we not the support of His Holiness and the Church?"

"Our full support…Majesty…" the envoy nods…

"Verbal and technical support and a few agents, your Majesty…Not  
exactly what we need for a full-scale invasion, Sire."

"The dratted Dutch…"

"They fear you more than the English, sire…"

"Really…" beam restored. "As they well should…" rapid dimming of beam…  
"But…Really? The invasion a no-go? You know we can't delay…Damned  
thing can only be targetted at the proper time."

"We are destroying the capital, sire…The army, the navy, the general  
population will be intact…"

"Almost seems unworthwhile…" Louis, morosely… "Just a mere test of our  
power…" brightens, le roi soleil once more… "But it will be  
spectacular…And it will mean Charlie will be even more desperate for  
funds…"

"Crawling, Sire…Crawling…" the aide nods…The envoy nodding in  
support.

"Still might force him to name half the new City after me in  
repayment…" Louis grins, rising from throne. Aides hoping up,  
scrambling to tend to his royal person.

"Then we shall proceed, Sire?"

"Indeed…Activate the glorious image of Our Power…In the image of the  
Sun himself…The Solar Mirror…" grand exit, sweeping along…Papal envoy,  
agents in train…

"Yes, Sire…" the aide calls…Waving to his own minions…

Hmmn…I seem to be experiencing a sense of forward- déjà-vu, regarding  
this project…the aide notes to self.

As if many times in the future supervillains will attempt to use giant  
solar mirrors to destroy or rule the world…

Ah, well…We were the first…

"Send word to Mont Blanc…Begin calibration, monsieurs!"

***

"Uncle Wight, London faces destruction…How can you protect these  
people?"

"Eh…The plague wiped out far more this year than any French/Papal  
superweapon targeted on London ever possibly…"

Ummn…Ooops…

"Heh, ha, heh…A mere whimsy, niece…"

French, eh?…Balty, rather pleased…Wait…

Uh-oh…

"Superweapon?…French?…" Bess stares.

"Balty?! Didn't Father go to Paris this month? He wasn't working on  
anything you know of?"

"Nothing dangerous, sister. Come to think of it he was happy about  
some private backer wanting to develop his mirror signaling  
telegraph."

Heh, ha…Oh…Uncle Wight tries innocent look.

"So…Still won't talk, eh, St. Michel?" Louis, now in private study  
with minions and papal envoy faces Alexander St. Michel, inventor par  
too excellent this time, tied to large table… "I want the names of  
those in England who know of our superweapon!"

"My signalling device…To be used for peaceful communication, you  
fiend, Louis!"

"Dog…Well you sure as hell will never be Sieur de St. Michel in my  
lifetime. Come, Cardinal…Let me demonstrate the power of our new  
weapon in minature…" Louis waves the group in.

"You will note the map of London on which our traitorous citizen is  
presently lying is drawn to scale but slightly altered to fit the  
table…My apologies. You may begin!"

A beam of focused, burning light strikes at the end of the table,  
quickly starting to move up toward the struggling Alex…

"This is sunlight, St. Michel…" Louis beams. "All my life I have  
basked in it, worshipped its divine beauty, its unreal lightness…I  
welcome any project that brings me closer to its source, the true  
source of all power, all life…" Waves to guards who pull curtains… "My  
very symbol, the sun god himself!"

Uh…Sire…The papal envoy eyes him…

"Classical allusion, solely of course…"

So why do we have 300 statues ready with Louis' head on Apollo's body,  
ready to be displayed in every church in France?…One aide puzzles.

"And here's our target point…A little street, soon to become famous…  
Pudding Lane…" Louis points.

"So Louis, you were expecting me to talk?" St. Michel speaking up,  
startles the group.

"What? Oh, no, St. Michel…I expect you to die! Along with London!"

Say?…What…Louis stares around at the dark room, beam abruptly cut off…  
Window to the study blackened suddenly.

"Light! Light!"

"Passing peasant deflected the beam, sire. Sorry about the mess on  
your Majesty's window…"

"St. Michel's bonds were cut by the deflected beam, he's escaped!"  
guard cries.

"No invasion, botched demonstration…This day is not going well!" Louis  
fumes.

***  
5am Paris, September 2nd.

"What do you mean good news and bad?" Louis demands of aide.

"Sire. St. Michel managed to destroy the super mirror."

"Bad. Yes."

"But not before our initial burst."

"Better."

"We won't vaporize London as we'd hoped."

"Bad."

"But we will set it aflame…The target was hit…The fires have started."

"Good."

"However…St Michel induced a slight extra deflection which caused a  
bit of a problem…Though it did demonstrate the full vaporizing  
effect."

"Potentially fatal…To you."

"Your Majesty was planning to completely redo Versailles anyway…"

***


	15. Chapter 15

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

"Home Alone…1665"

Day before Christmas, 1665...

Sam off in Greenwich with no intention of making it to London and the  
Missus for Xmas...Press of business, harsh duty of plague times, etc,  
etc... "Oooh, Samuel..." Mrs Pennington, again in her cups...And  
without most of her clothing...

But meanwhile, in London...

"So, Mrs. Pepys, we have been asked by Sir George…"

Cough by companion…Hissed "John"…

"…Sir John Robinson to check on all these fine homes hereabouts, so  
sadly emptied by the terrible plague. Tell me, ma'am…It is just you  
and the other ladies here in the house?"

"My maids, yes…And our boy, Thomas. But we have old Gibbon at the  
gate."

"Yes." beaming smile. "I'm sure all will be well. And you can rest  
assured, Mrs. Pepys that Jeremy here and I will do all we can to see  
that the King's officers' homes are properly protected in these  
uncertain times."

Solemn, dutiful nod from Jeremy beside him…

"That is so kind of Sir John. I confess I was a little nervous about  
coming back alone but it's good to know we have extra protection at  
hand."

"Certainly ma'am. Well, I think we've completed our survey of your  
fine home and its valuables, we'll be on to check the others."

"Good day, gentlemen. Please thank Sir John and give my best to my  
Lady Robinson. Mercer, show the gentlemen from Sir John out."

"You got everything, Jeremy?"

"The place is loaded, Styme…Loaded…Silver plates, flagons, fancy wall  
hangings, a pearl necklace in the lady's chamber."

"What does a lady need a closet of her own for?" Styme shakes head.

"And I'm sure there was something big in those chests in the cellar."

"That's the best of the lot. Well, we'll make our move tonight. Hit  
them all in one night and be off by morning."

"High time two seamen got a little of their own back from these  
blokes. But what about the lieutenant of the Tower, Robinson? She  
might send to him?"

"Not a chance. He's out with the Court. There's nobody but that old  
guard at the gate and he'd be gone if he could walk. The Naval complex  
houses are empty, except for the Pepys'. And best of all, excepting  
the maids…"

"…She's home alone?"

"Heh, heh…" "Hah, hah, ha…"

N Robert Gertz on Mon 29 Dec 2008, 11:47am. Flag this

"Look at that…"

"What? Jeremy, what are you doin' there?"

"There's pits in the moon, Styme…Look here through the hole here."

"What?"

"The telescope here, look…"

"You bloody moron! We've no time for this! Just wrap it up and grab  
the other things."

"Look at all these books, Styme…The man's an educated sort, no  
question."

"Just pack up the ones that look valuable…And quietly! We've got to  
finish and move on to the other houses."

"Say, this looks like shorthand…"

"What?"

"Shorthand, fast writin'…I used to do it for me master on the Argus  
before. To help him keep the accounts secret-like. Whoa."

"What?"

"This fellow gets around…My God, he's doin' it with three women in one  
day if he be telling true…"

"Three? That bug-eyed little fellow?"

"That's what it says…Though a lot here seems to be in French-like."

"But 'e's married. To that pretty wench…?"

"Tis a sordid world, Styme…"

"Well, put it away and grab the stuff…We've got to be off."

"Mrs. Pepys?"

"Wha…?"

"I hear something…"

Crash…

"Jeremy!"

"Sorry…"

"It's from Mr. P's closet, ma'am."

"Mrs. Pepys!" frightened chorus as two maids and Tom run in…

"There's someone in the house!" "I heard something!"

"Can't believe the man would do that with such a pretty lass to wife?"

"Court types…Scum of the earth in fancy clothes, Jeremy. Come on, look  
sharp! The ladies might've heard us."

"Someone in the house? Tom, lets have us a look."

"Ma'am?"

"Mrs. Pepys? They might have guns and swords…" Mercer cautions.

"Right…Well…Tom, give me that chamber pot…"

"Ma'am…?"

"And fetch me Mr. Pepys' older periwig…"

"Ok, just this bag downstairs and then we'll check out those chests…"

"Arggh! Styme!"

Crash…Down the stairs…

"Who threw that?!"

"Ugh…Styme! It's a pot!" Arghh…Slips…Further down the stairs…

Uhhhh…

"Hold there!" stern voice…Figure in periwig and waistcoat at the head  
of the stairs…

"Styme?!"

"There's a man with them, run!"

"Hold or we fire!"

"Leave the bags! Go, go…!"

"Mrs. Pepys? That was amazing."

"Oh, I imitate Sam'l all the time at parties…" Bess in periwig and  
waistcoat, grinning…

***  
"So it's simple…Until Mr. Pepys can return, I'll just dress up like  
him every night…"

Every night? Be still my aching heart…Mercer, Tom…

"…It frightened them off last night, it will again."

"So you say…" Styme frowns at ole one-eyed Cooper… "There's no chance  
of getting more tickets as Mr. Pepys is not in London."

"Aye, Greenwich for the duration…" Cooper nods, spurt of tobacco  
juice.

Wasn't that eyepatch on the other side last time I saw him? Jeremy  
eyes patch.

"The plague and all…Business of the office…" Styme nods solemnly.

"Plague mayhaps, but not business keeping him there…" Cooper, another  
squirt to left.

"Sorry, mate…Best to keep to me right."

Now I know it was on the other side, he got me on the left last time,  
Jeremy fumes.

"But he has a pretty little wife here in town. Maybe he comes in to  
see her a night or two."

"Maybe…But he's other ports of call to tide him over if ye get me  
drift."

"A wench or two, eh?"

"Or three?" Jeremy, knowing look…

"And to think I lectured the fellow in multiplication…" Cooper sighs.  
"I do feels some responsibility…"

Styme eyeing Jeremy, Jeremy, Styme.

"I used breeding rabbits as an example…" Cooper shakes head. "If only  
I'd thought on the temptations of this wicked court."

"A wicked world, brother Cooper. Well, if there be no chance of  
getting tickets here, we'll be off to Greenwich, eh Jeremy?"

"We will?…Oh, right, yes, we will."

"So…" Styme watches the vanishing Cooper… "No Mr. Pepys in town."

"But someone be there, Styme."

"Aye. Perhaps the lass has a gentleman seeing her anights. We might do  
well by ourselves to keep watch tonight, Jeremy. Mr. Pepys might pay  
well to know what goes on in his home when he's away."

"That don't seem right, Styme. Why, that book of his says he be about  
it with other ladies left and right."

"Ours not to question the current societal structure, Jeremy. Just to  
profit by it. Unless of course we can take the man unaware when he  
leaves…In that case we revert to plan A."

"What?"

"We rob the blooming house, you idiot. After we get the man out of the  
way."

"Oh…I still say, it's not right…"

"Shut up, Jeremy."  
N Robert Gertz on Mon 29 Dec 2008, 09:00pm. Flag this

"Balty. I appreciate your offering to stay but…" Bess eyes waving  
sword in Balty's unsteady hand.

"Sister…A gentleman of honor and one under obligation to your husband  
can do no less. Let these rogues come and allow me to show that the  
heir to the Sieur de St. Michel has no less…"

Crash…

"Pardon, sister."

"Balty, please be careful. You know how Sam'l is about his things.  
What?"

"You look ridiculous in that wig, sister. Though Samuel's waistcoat  
does suit you."

Yeah…Mercer, Tom…

"I see two men…" Jeremy hisses to Styme, peering through a small  
telescope purloined from Penn's empty house.

"Two?" Styme frowns.

"I think…One might be…I think they're fighting, Styme. One does look…I  
think it might be Mr. Pepys fighting the other."

"Ah…Rooster home to keep the hen honest…Right." Styme sighs.

"Balty, put down that sword!"

"Sister…You'd think I was never a soldier. Lay on you rogues, come  
forth!" Swish…

"Styme, one's got a sword. I think he's killing Mr. Pepys."

"Soorry, sister."

"Just put it down, Balty." Bess strokes lightly cut arm. "And pray you  
didn't cut Sam'l coat.

"Mr. Pepys is falling back, I think he's kilt, Styme!"

"Lord…The wicked ways of the gentry." Styme shakes head. "Let me see."

"A minute."

"Lemme…"

Crash…

"It came from out there."

"Perhaps…Caution is our best guide." Balty notes. "As a soldier, I  
learned…"

"Oh, come on, Balty. I know you only went over to Holland at Sam'l's  
bidding to look over their fleet."

"Though it was very brave of you to take on such a mission…" to  
crestfallen face.

"Danger is nothing to a gentleman. Ah!" jump from sound of Styme  
leaping over the low gate.

"I arrest you…In the King's name." ole Gibbons calls from his perch at  
the gate. Not moving.

"They're gone I think, Gibbons." Bess calls. "Alls well now, but we'll  
have a look round."

"Sister…Keep behind me."

Arrgh…Bess glares…

I should charge Sam'l wages for this…

***

"Sos I guess we take our haul and haul off, Styme?"

"No..." Styme, grimly...His pride touched now, given their learning of  
the truth of the past two nights through taunting word of the idiot,  
if still unknown, thieves by the Pepys maids at the few shops still  
open. "I'm not going without a look at those chests. The girl I  
spoke to...Who knows a barber's assistant...Who knows a barber's  
assistant...Who used to trim that Pepys...Says there's a horde of gold  
and silver in them. And after all I been through these past two...I'm  
getting me hands on that treasure." And greed a bit tickled...

Jeremy, more philosophical, notes the blessing of Providence is  
fickle...They have a good cache of loot from the other homes...Might  
be best to let be and get out while one can.

"I'm not going without those chests. We can still get them. There's  
only her and the flighty maids, now the idiot brother's gone off  
home. Those Navy Office types pressed us, kept us in the ships during  
the worst plague time...No food, no beer, no money, just them damned  
tickets! Now we get our own back! Enough to keep us and ours in  
style for life!"

"Jane would appreciate it..." Jeremy nods... His Jane being a girl of  
some tastes...A reader too...

Though what with her having worked for the Pepys a while ago, he'd  
felt it wise not to tell her what he and Styme were up to, asking so  
many questions about the Naval Office complex...

If she were to find out...Hmmn...

Still...A fortune...Not to be sneezed at...Even though what they had  
already was ample for most...

"I'm not sure, Styme..."

"You forgettin' what the fellow did to your Jane's brother...?"

Hmmn...Right, poor Wayneman...Janey still cries over 'im...

"Are we...Truest of true sons of Britannia...The heirs of Drake and  
Raleigh, to falter on our way? Put down by a woman and her maids."

"All right, one more try, Styme...To keep me Janey in style..."

"Aye..."

"So?..."

"So we let 'em think we're gone...And hit 'em tonight...This time, no  
wigs or idiot brothers waving swords'll stop us."

"Styme. We don't frighten the ladies too much. Janey'd be upset if  
she heard tell the ladies was frighted...And mad if she heard I was  
the one to do it."

"We'll do the velvet touch...Just enough bark to put the fear of God  
in them. They owe us that much."

"Just not too much, Styme. And no...You know..."

"I'm an honorable seaman forced by cruel necessity to a low act,  
Jeremy...Not some twit pervert courtier..."

"Speakin' of low acts...Here he comes." Jeremy notes, nudging...

"Ah, young Bagwell...Welcome back to London..." Styme, brimming with  
bonhomie...

"All right, what's the job?" Bagwell, furgitive glance round...

"Here...This be the Naval Office...You gonna take the Naval Office?  
Me place of employ? Where I's got...Connections?"

Connections all right...Jeremy, remembering the last passage of the  
Pepys fellow's journal he'd read the other night.

"You's a sharp one, Will...Always a pleasure to do business wid ye..."  
Styme nods. "Yes, right here..."

"Are you bloody out of your mind? I could lose me job if they found  
out...And they could hang me as well...Though that'd be a mercy if I  
got tossed out."

"No one's about Will...It's a simple job." Styme grins.

"Then what you needing me for...You never been the kind to do a three-  
some, Styme."

"Just needing a little extra help to cart all the goods away,  
Will...Some one who's been in the place and knows the lay...A little  
life and carry and a fair share in your pocket. Might be nice to have  
a bit of something for the Missus, eh? Eh? A bird, eh? Or a viol to  
play on...She always fancied music, your lass, that I recall."

"She don't want nothing...She ain't very happy these days. And my  
hanging or getting the sack ain't likely to perk her up."

"Future support, Will...Think on old age, man...You'll need a bit of  
something to keep by for those times, Will..."

"Which house you hitting?"

"Uh...Well..." Rather proud look from Styme... "We got most of them  
already...But..." nod to Bagwell's admiring look... "The best pigeon  
is still waiting in the bush...'

"Pigeon?" Jeremy, puzzled.

"Metaphor you dolt..."

"Which house?" Bagwell, rather suddenly curious.

"Why, Mr. Pepys. I believe you know the man, Will." Styme, coolly.

"Indeed she do...I mean you do..." Jeremy, leering.

Bagwell, cold stare...

"Here...What you mean by that?"

"Word about is this man Pepys don't deliver on his promises..." Styme,  
smiling.

"Don't deliver." Jeremy nods, knowing leer.

Crash...Howl from Jeremy as Bagwell jumps him...

Hmmn...Was that something about "she's a good girl, she is..."? Styme  
wondered as he attempted to pull Bagwell off his battered and bloodied  
partner.

Guess the gossip about...Not to mention what young Jeremy read in that  
Pepys book... is true, then, he reflected.

Wicked, wicked world... 

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	16. Chapter 16

Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

…

All Hallows Eve 1700…

Now upon this midnight dreary…

Though Diary, I ponder, old and weary…

Dreaming of a younger day

A day that now's so far away…

Oh, those golden days of yore…

Only this and nothing more…

Now comes a soft, familiar tapping…

A rapping at my library door…

"Tis Will or Mary who makes this tapping…

Rapping at my library door…

Only one of them, and nothing more…"

"Oh, Will or Mary…Come, whilst I remember…

Let me tell ye just once more…

Of my golden days of yore…

I promise ye I will not bore…"

But only rapping, strangely familiar tapping…

Faintly at my library door…

Only this but nothing more…

Presently my stone pain abated…

And so thought I this tapping rated...

A little peek outside my door…

So I stepped upon the floor…

Carefully approached the door…

"If not Will, not Mary…Who be ye, stranger?...

Rapping at my library door…?"

Here I opened wide my door…

Down the hall I stood there peering, fearing…

Clutching that which made my dreams so sure…

My Diary and nothing more…

But all was silence and unbroken…

Pitch darkness that gave no token…

"Stranger? Why have you I awoken?...

Will ye give me no more token…

No word from you to make me sure…"

From the darkness… "Read some more…"

Now a chill crept o'er me, thrilling…

A clear sign of a cold for sure…

Fantastic terrors filled me, chilling…

Terror never felt before…

From the darkness… "Read some more…"

Running back into the chamber, turning…

Slamming door, my stone pain burning…

Burning as it never has before…

I'm much too old for such a chore…

Calling on my Will or Mary…

No succor there, in bed for sure….

But all being stillness, my head was calming…

For the explanation simple, balming…

Just the wind and nothing more…

Still, that voice was so familiar…

A voice I know I've heard before…

In lost golden days of yore…

A voice that shook my sad heart's core…

"But it was just the wind…" saith I… "And nothing more…"

"Let my heart be still and then I'll explore…

This mystery of 'Read some more'…"

Sinking back onto my chair cushion…

Staring at my library door…

Now my sheared hairs highly rising,

As through that solid library door,

Moved a hooded figure, pausing…

Pausing to regard me, more…

"I tole you, go on, read some more…"

"Bess?" Saith I… "My saint, my darling…"

"Shut up, you…Your words' not worth a farthing…

See you've done quite well for sure…

Since me you put below the floor…"

"Not so bad…" said I…And nothing more…

"Speak…" said the sprite… "You're so loquacious…

Cat got your tongue? That's news for sure…"

"Bess…" whispered I…And nothing more…

"Why have I come? You might try and ask me.

Damnit, Sam'l…You really task me…

Go on, you git, go on, ask me…

Why for God's sake am I at your door?

When my only answer should be 'Nevermore'."

Gathering courage at the spirit's pleading…

My weary heart within me beating…

Beating as it has not for many years before…

"Bess? It is you?…" a nervous conceding…

Conceding as I never did before…

That spirits could project through doors…

"And what is it, you wish me read some more?..."

"You bet it's me…You cheat, you liar…

You philandering little louse, you male whore…"

"Bess…I thought we'd covered this ground before…"

"Damnit, I said to read some more…"

Seeing the sprite was so insistent…

I hesitated but an instant…

Looking round my library floor…

For that said volume…

"I mean the Diary, you clod…The volume you just dropped on the floor…"

"Oh…You meant read that some more?…"

Now a bit I sweated, really…

Pondering, fearing…Quite sincerely…

"You've heard me read it?..." Hesitating…

"You bet…" Grimly… "And I'm waiting…"

Throwing off her hood to show…

Whoa…Oh,

My lovely Bess in all her glory…

Not a trace of any gory…

More beautious than Barbara Palmer…

As if on the day that Halys painted…

So dazzling old I nearly fainted…

"You're looking well…" saith I, faintly…

"Can't say the same…" saith she, quaintly…

"You gonna read or am I going…?"

"Oh, darling…" saith I, glowing…

For shame, you see and nothing more…

"If you can read it…"

"I can for sure…"

"Then let me burn it…" and said no more…

"Read, you idiot…You clod, you moron…

Your record of faithlessness I should deplore…

But…Read more from the volume on the floor…"

Standing next me, she appearing…

Leaning on my shoulder as in days of yore…

Listening as I read her more…

"Ha!..." laughed she… "You were jealous of old Sibley…

Even after Willet…" grimly… "Now read more…"

"Bess, you like it?..." said I, staring…

"Sometimes it doth show you caring…"

Replied she with her eye of scorn…

But sensed I a note of feeling…

A tenderness, even a pleading…

Leading me to continue reading…

Reading as I never did before…

Just to please her, nothing more…

"Well, that's the end…Did it bore you?...

I know it's not a record of how I did adore you…"

Said she, in tone of quiet sadness…

"Not all life is filled with gladness…

But…Ask I Sam'l why you stopped it?

It surely wasn't just the optic…

Since read you can so well, so true…"

Quoth I… "T'was nothing without you…"

"Well…" Saith she, eyeing me gladly…

Though trying to seem somewhat madly…

"Least you did send Willet packing…

And these do look nice in their leather backing…

You shouldn't burn them, they look pricey…

And you read them rather nicely…"

"Come again and I will keep them…"

Saith I , calm voice concealing…

Sad desperation I was feeling…

"We could start with volume one…

And if I'm dead before we've done…

We could finish in Heav'n…

If you'd allow…"

"Lord, I sense another vow…

Yet, as an avid fan of reading…

Perhaps I may pity your pleading…

Possibly I might just come again…

To spend a night in your little den…"

And my Diary, my Bess, still is sitting…

On the shelves just next my door…

And every night the candle's burning…

As I read my Bess forevermore…

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